


Henair e-Gûr

by chiliadicorum



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fiondil, Friendship, Gen, Halls of Mandos, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age, but Glorfindel's still cheerful even then, didn't know which fandom to put it in, quite a bit of talk of death and dying, the setting is lotr but the convo really belongs in the silm, tribute piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiliadicorum/pseuds/chiliadicorum
Summary: Glorfindel is in a pensive mood and Erestor decides to see if he is well. A conversation ensues, most of which flies over Erestor's head. Not to worry, though. Glorfindel told him from the start he would not understand, but Erestor loves answers.





	Henair e-Gûr

_Imladris, 150 TA_

Erestor approached Glorfindel and stayed his steps at a respectful distance away, awaiting Glorfindel's acknowledgement of his presence. The Balrog-slayer was sitting in a chair upon one of the roofed parapets of the House, looking out unto the eastward waterfalls of Imladris. It was quiet here, nary a disturbance, and lay away from the Elves going to and fro about the House. Erestor looked at his golden head, knowing Glorfindel sought this place for its solitude, and for that reason waited.

The wait persisted for only a breath or two. Glorfindel turned his head only so slightly in his direction, though never laying his sight on him. "Erestor."

"Glorfindel." He stepped closer and stood along the Elf dressed plainly in a silver tunic and dark leggings. He was unarmed, or so he appeared. Erestor tilted his head. "Do I disrupt you? I will leave, if so."

Glorfindel shook his head, gesturing to the other chair alongside him. "Not so, Lord Counselor. What troubles you?" He sat up straighter in his own, seeming to shake himself from whatever solemn musing had been so occupying his thoughts.

"Nothing."

Glorfindel gave a small smile, a glint of amusement in his blue eyes. "I have had many a quiet moment before and the seldom times you  _disrupted_ me have been for a sound reason, though I would not deny your company if otherwise." He gestured mildly with both hands. "So?"

Erestor huffed, moving to sit in the chair and sighing as he relaxed into it, despite its make of solid wood. "I speak truthfully, my friend. I have just been thinking."

"I was unaware you ever stopped."

Erestor glowered at him, though the spark in his eyes belied it. "Nonetheless, a trail of my thoughts has been for you. I name it not concern, but you have me curious, though I hesitate to discuss a subject ill to the peace of your heart."

Glorfindel looked at him, his eyes bright and far too perceptive. "That has never stopped your speaking of such things before." He gave a disarming smile. "Come now, Erestor. Stalling and sparing me the candor of your tongue is unlike you, and I am unsure if I approve," he added in feigned disapproval. "Locking away thoughts to the isolation of your particular brain can be dangerous."

Again Erestor sent him a dark glower, but his expression transmuted into one solemn and grave. "The deaths of Eregil and Duilion a fortnight ago." The names stirred no reaction from Glorfindel, who looked on unflustered, but Erestor had not expected them to. "I know their scouting the foot of the High Pass was mere routine and that their deaths took you by surprise, though more due to their being waylaid by a band of wandering Orcs when Sauron has been no more for nigh two hundred years. It took us all by surprise."

Brief confusion flitted across his face. "And you came to see if I am well?"

Erestor shook his head, his gaze moving from Glorfindel to stare out into the Valley, the rays of the setting sun casting warm hues upon his fair face. "No. You are no novice warrior and know more intimately than most the cost of wearing those warrior braids. And I know you in truth, my friend," he added with a soft glance to him. "You regret not arriving to their aid in time, but do not take on a layer of ice or shouldering of guilt at what those novice warriors would perceive as failure." He looked fully to Glorfindel, dark eyes narrowed in thoughtful observation. "You have been quiet, and while I do not necessarily support the idea of solitude in mourning those you knew, I do respect it."

Glorfindel nodded, though his brow was still slightly furrowed. "Then why are you here? You do not do too well at speaking in circles."

Erestor opened his mouth and closed it, looking away with his own frown. He gave a nigh indiscernible sigh, grasping for the right words to speak, but they eluded him and with a shake of his head, he looked to Glorfindel in chagrin. "I suppose I did come to see how you fare. On the matter of death you have a unique perception, but I had long ago noticed you speak not of it when you are yet undoubtedly the most at peace with it among us in Middle-earth." He gestured uncertainly, inwardly cringing that the words did not come forth in the manner he wanted. "You never speak of your time in Mandos, and nor would I expect you to, but always you become…withdrawn when comes the death of someone you knew. I know not what to think, and just…." He floundered again, the cringe this time making it to his face. "Are you well?"

"Ah." The confusion cleared and Glorfindel flashed a fond smile at the Counselor before leaning back in his chair with a deep sigh, looking for all the world as a content feline. "You need not be concerned for me," he assured, looking back out to the beauty of the falls, and Erestor could see his eyes soften at the sight. "Because of that unique perception of death, as you say, I just prefer the peace of solitude in my mourning for those honorable ellyn than appearing to have a cold face to others whom mourn just as greatly."

Erestor regarded him with confusion. "What mean you by that?"

Glorfindel shrugged, absently running his fingers along the carvings of the armrest. "I have not shed a tear since coming upon the bodies of Eregil and Duilion and I would not people think me heartless. It hurts to see their lives taken, particularly when I had trained them myself only to learn that such training had not been enough to save them. I know they are at peace, that one day they will be Reborn, but I cannot let it be a blade upon my fëa." He looked at Erestor with raised eyebrows, though his gaze was grave. "It sounds cold even unto mine own ears, but suffice it to say that I am guarding my heart more closely amid this second chance at life."

A small smile upturned the corners of Erestor's lips. "I noticed," he said. "Your face is full of joy and speech full of cheer in truth, and I remember the beacon you were to both Elf and Man when first you came to Lindon out of the West. But I have noticed you tend to guard yourself from becoming close with others in the intimate way you have with only a few."

Glorfindel looked as though he were resisting a chuckle, for his eyes crinkled in humor. "You know you are one of them, no?"

Erestor stared at him with a bland expression. "Of course," he spoke, his words slow and deliberate. "How else would I know you as a book? Albeit one of the most complex books I have read," he conceded, adjusting in his chair to cross his legs.

Glorfindel did not respond, but his expression spoke it all, and Erestor nigh rolled his eyes at the merriment that always seemed to exude from the golden-haired Noldo. He sobered his expression, refusing to be sidetracked. "Though you survived dying you refuse to speak of it, not that you must. Though we know where we would go if slain, the experience of death itself is of the unknown to Elves, and thus feared even if they would go marching honorably towards it. But for you," he went on, "it is a known factor, and your reticence against answering questions of it since your return led me to believe that…well…." He sighed again in mild frustration as words failed him, and the principle of it happening at all rattled him. Erestor stared in silence at Glorfindel, who sat there as the epitome of patience with a small smile as he waited for Erestor to find the correct words. He was always smiling, Erestor reflected grudgingly.

He sighed again, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nevermind. Just your reaction to people asking you, however polite, is the reason why I myself have never questioned you on it."

Glorfindel's face cleared as his smile grew in full, looking even more relaxed than before as he leaned his head upon the chair's top rail. "I see now where your curiosity lay." He lifted an eyebrow. "I never knew you desired answers from me also. More curiosity?"

"I am a loremaster. I like answers."

Glorfindel chuckled, and though his face grew more serious, his eyes were endless reflections of peace and contentment. "Mandos is not a fractious memory for me, Erestor, if such may have been your suspicion," he reassured, his voice soft and deep. "Though such memories in the Halls are yet difficult to wholly recall, they are some of my best, to be honest." Erestor stared at him, unknowing of what to say, and Glorfindel chuckled again at the expression on his face. "If you would indulge my own curiosity, why ask you of it now after so long a time?"

It took Erestor a moment for him to find his grasp on words again as his mind tried to reconcile with what Glorfindel just said. "I am not," he came to answer. "Though I do wonder as everyone else, I believe it not to be my right to know when still among the living. That, and I presume you would little appreciate being pestered with those same questions by one you call a friend."

Glorfindel huffed in amusement. "Mayhap I would answer you, or Elrond. But in truth, you just spoke the reason why I am silent." He looked at Erestor, contemplative. "It is not necessarily a matter of the knowledge of death being or not being the right of any Elf, but rather that they will not understand, not even a little, no matter how well I might go to describe it. The Reborn in Aman are not small in number and will continue to grow as more are restored to Life, but Mandos was often just another topic of conversation among even the Amaneldi who had never died. I and fellow Reborn often spoke with smiles and in merriment of our times in Mandos, comparing our experiences and offering our most vocal opinions on the competency of Lord Námo's Maiar."

Erestor's eyes widened, unable to hide the incredulous expression, and Glorfindel appeared again to suppress a laugh. He searched for what to say, but he was speechless, preposterous images springing to mind at what Glorfindel's words conjured. "What?" he eventually said, and it was all he could say.

Glorfindel gave a full laugh, his face bright with warmth and eyes dancing with delight. "See?" he encouraged. "You would not understand. You nor anyone else could understand how the healing gifted to us in Mandos could be given nowhere else. How those slain on the shores of Alqualondë have no hatred for their slayers. How those Reborn who had followed the banners of the Fëanorians are welcomed in Tirion. How the Valar have truly forgiven all those who Rebelled, even those guilty of Kinslaying thrice over." He paused, eyes growing pensive as they became distant in some memory only he could see. "I speak not of my time in Valinor after being Reborn for the same reason. None could understand the strife that befell Valinor at our Rebellion, even after we left. None could understand the mess they were left to clean up, of the bitter divisions that long existed henceforth between the Vanyar and Teleri and the tithe of Noldor that remained or returned. None could understand the time it took or the trials endured for those breaches to be healed, unto how even King Olwë let go of the anger and bitterness in his heart." He gave a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes glinting with a fey emotion Erestor could put no name to. "I saw him speak of forgiveness to a Reborn who had partaken in the Kinslayings of both Alqualondë and Doriath and then embrace him."

Erestor was staring at him, aghast, and he knew the disbelief was clear in his face, growing with every new sentence that fell from Glorfindel's lips. They tumbled in his mind, one after another, and Glorfindel just sat there with that patient smile and knowing look in his merry eyes.

"You are skeptical," Glorfindel said as the silence ensued, and it was made clear by the tone of his voice that he knew the observation was true. The smile grew. "Skeptical to the point of mayhap dubbing me a teller of lies."

"No," Erestor refuted, a little too quickly. His brow furrowed as he lowered his gaze, looking about at nothing in particular, just so confounded. "I just –"

"Which part?" he asked knowingly. "What I spoke of the Kinslayers? Or Olwë? Or all of it?" Erestor did not answer, found that he could not, and Glorfindel shook his head, shifting in his chair until he was leaning forward on his knees, hands clasped and fingers absently fiddling with each other. Strands of hair fell forward, gleaming even more like gold under the last remnants of daylight. "I told you," he said with another smile, though this one carried a glimmer of sadness. "You can little understand. Of course," he demurred, "think not that there was no bitterness and anger and even hatred among those Elves in Valinor in the First Age, and even the Second. It took a long time, many yéni, for the Amaneldi to heal from all that had happened since the Darkening, especially the Teleri. And though I may predict how it would go, I would fain be there to see the reception given to one such as Lord Maedhros when he is Reborn." He flashed a wide grin at the dark-haired Counselor. "And you can little fathom why I smile at the thought, can you?"

Erestor huffed and collapsed against his chair, feeling partially overwhelmed in attempting to comprehend all that he had heard, but so fast was his mind spinning with it that he gave up fairly fast in even trying to. "No, you contradiction to logic, I cannot," he conceded in exasperation.

Glorfindel gestured with his hands with an air of finality. "There you go," he said, cocking his head to the side as all melancholy that had briefly been in his face melted away for the new merriment that now surfaced. "And you could little understand the tales I would fain tell, that I have shared with those Amaneldi who asked. Tales of my time in Mandos or after being reembodied. But be not concerned of my outlook on Mandos," he said more gravely, "for my time in Námo's Halls was of the most blissful I have experienced, and the compassion of his Maiar was often overwhelming. I remember Maranwë, his Chief Maia, who took up the tasks of even the lowest Maia if it meant the Children under Námo's care being happy." His expression relaxed into a fond one at the mention of Maranwë, a fondness Erestor had never before seen grace the Balrog-slayer's face, and he wondered at it. And then he chuckled, though at what Erestor could not fathom. "I recall being quite the trial for him while in Mandos and am fairly certain he threw a celebration the day I left."

Erestor gave a halfhearted chuckle. "Now that is something I can believe," he murmured.

Glorfindel chortled again to himself, eyes glazed over in memory. But then he seemed to collect himself and the smile faded as he turned again to Erestor with a somber look. "I am well, my friend. Eregil's and Duilion's deaths grieve me, and I would that I and my company had arrived quicker. But at least in knowing death I know they are well, treated with compassion and Love of the purest kind."

"Even those guilty of the grossest of sins?" Erestor wished he could take back the words, but it was one point of incredulity he could not help voicing.

Glorfindel's eyes were grave and there was a depth of wisdom in them that, for a moment, made the unassuming Elf seem unto Erestor's eyes to be a wholly different person, but a reality of who he was that was often easy to forget: An Elf-lord to have lived under the Trees in their full glory and exuded their Light, puissant and sagacious beyond the comprehension of those never to have known Death. "Even they," he said quietly. "Death is unnatural for Elves, a happenstance we may be fated to endure, but I can little think of how to explain in a way you would understand that while death may be painful and agonizing, fearsome for you and grievous for those who survive you, the other side of death is not so horrible as is feared." He gave another small smile, but it was mirthless, his eyes solemn. "I would love to instill everyone on this side of the Sea with that reassurance, but without the context none would take it to heart.

"So," he concluded, "I opt to remain silent. Even if they did grasp what I would say, it still would not feel wholly right to say it. Death is a different journey for all who come to take it, and…I just…." He now struggled to find adequate words.

But Erestor held up his hand. "I understand, Glorfindel. I have heard all you said and name you not a liar or an embellisher of truths." He shot him a wry look. "But for all my mastery of lore I am rendered silent, I fear, unknowing of what to say or how to say it, even how to reconcile it with what I had presumed to know. Of course, I was born in the First Age and never knew Valinor, so mayhap that is a contributing factor."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Perchance it is. I have many a time spoken with the Exiles who remain, mostly while we resided in Lindon since they primarily resided either there or in Mithlond. Or Eregion ere its fall. We spoke and still speak of Eldamar on occasion, those few who remain in this Third Age, but they have the context to know what I am saying. But all the others who are curious of the wonders of the West do not, regrettably, and so I opt for silence."

Erestor snorted in amusement. "More so you opt to tell them to sail to Aman themselves if they wish to know, if I recall correctly."

Glorfindel's face contorted with an impish grin. "Yes, I do, and such is true enough." He titled his head, studying him. "I pray I have your forgiveness if my silence with you on the subject is a slight."

Erestor shook his head, letting go a small sigh. "No, Glorfindel. You are my friend, and while your words inspire wonder and incredulity in me, I would rather have the satisfaction of learning the answers myself. Of Aman, that is," he quickly amended. "Not death. Forgive me, but despite your good words, I still have no wish to die."

"You had better not." He did not smile, but Erestor suspected it was only by sheer willpower, if the twinkle in his eye told anything. "Have I answered your question?"

He nodded. "I would not say I was worried, but you have remained in this solemn spell since their deaths for a while now."

Glorfindel bowed his head. "They were good people. Not only good warriors, but good at heart. They were faithful in safeguarding Imladris and loyal beyond measure to Elrond and Gil-galad before him. I fought alongside them at Mordor, and then before during our flight to the Hidden Valley after the sacking of Eregion."

"I know." A kind expression softened Erestor's face. "I was there."

Glorfindel flash him a humored glance. "I know. Their demise hurts, but such is why I guard my heart as I said, despite knowing personally what lies beyond death's door. Though I grew well learnt of many things in Mandos and afterwards in Lórien and up until the time I returned here, it does not diminish at all the pain that smothers you when one you allowed into your heart dies. It was a lesson I learned before even dying, before Gondolin even fell, and one I intend to not forget. So," he digressed, "I am careful. And quiet." He added the last with a teasing smile.

Erestor stood, straightening his robes by habit, and looked down at the Captain. "Come to dinner," he bid, though not unkindly. "The twins will want to regale you with some telling or another, and I would fain have you there ready to listen instead of being pestered with enquiries of your missing person. Waist-high they may be, but their mouths can run like a river."

Glorfindel chuckled, standing himself. "I blame Elrond, or even you. Loremasters seem to thrive in talking for hours."

Erestor raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You can be just as bad!"

He snorted. "Of course. I give as good as I am given, so no complaints."

Erestor rolled his eyes, but refrained from retorting. Plenty of time for that at dinner.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> R.I.P.: This story was published in tribute to the memory of Austin Boccaccio, known by the alias "Fiondil" among the Tolkien community, primarily on Stories of Arda. He passed away on January 28, 2015, and while I never knew him personally nor spoke to him online, he was one of the greatest Tolkien writers I had ever had the privilege to come across and follow for years. It hurt to learn of his demise, but I thank him endlessly for all the joy he provided me through his work. Rest in peace, Fiondil.
> 
> (Certain events alluded to in this fic along with the character Maranwë belonged to Fiondil. He was a linguist and a Tolkien scholar, and while I don't agree with him on several things, his portrayal of the Ainur and everything with them I consider as my headcanon, every bit of it. When I first found him years ago, he astounded me with his interpretation of Tolkien's text on them, and I honestly don't believe there is a more accurate portrayal of the Valar than his.)
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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